There were long, only half-stifled groans amidst widespread muffled unrest, this week, as Prime Minister Boris Johnson, after being admitted to a hospital intensive care unit to battle against the Coronavirus, didn't die.
Johnson, showing the kind of tenacious resolve he previously employed in "getting Brexit done", lived to fight another day, and, whilst it's generally poor form to wish someone dead, an exception in the shock-headed, immoral racist's case might, reasonably, be overlooked.
Johnson, through his lack of activity as the virus raced across the globe from China, and by not attending the first five Cobra meetings to discuss action on Covid-19, and by taking a two-week break at Chevening, even whilst people in the UK were dying, has not done himself any favours.
Cuts he oversaw to emergency personal protective equipment - 40% cuts - and bungled ventilator procurement, have left the country - the country that voted for him - at the mercy of the deadly virus.
If Britain were a boat, it would be 'up the creek', and the paddles would not yet have been ordered.
Whilst he was recovering in the best hospital other people's money could buy, his ill-assembled Cabinet soldiered on, totally incompetent and unprepared for the work in hand.
Cobbled together to "get Brexit done", the Dominics - Cummings and Raab - 'Priti' Patel, Elizabeth Truss and an inordinate procession of other inadequates found themselves wanting without the captain of the floundering vessel.
Now, he's 'back on the bridge', steering a course through the troubled, uncharted and stormy waters of the Pandemic, looking radiant as the country buries its 20,000 dead-thus-far - amongst them valued doctors and nurses - and heading towards the ship's ultimate destination - Oblivion.
God help us - Covid-19 couldn't.